Text/Lu Ye Editor: Ichimon Fangfei
Source/beauty to heartbreaking prose
Ten miles outside the alley, the side of the eight zhangfang grass, the two sides of the strait Xiao Xiaoliang, ask the spring wind, can there be a place?
People in the deep boudoir for a long time, often remember the west of the willow, plain clothes long placket streamer dance, light steps, want to go to the depth of spring.
Spring is good, the sun is warm, the winding path stretches to infinity, the story is long, and the old memories are like the wind blowing melodiously.
The wind is the most long-lasting, the point is boundless, the green willow is green, the grass is green, and the spring flowers begin to bloom, the delicate spirit blossoms, the flowers are also sunny, and the grass leaves and the wind rhyme with the same, and the spring is crisp.
Last night, I dreamed again, met in the spring breeze, carried a small basket, and picked up the beautiful spring light. A bunch, a bunch, a bunch, a basket full of clothes.
Green willow branches, blowing across the Qinglian River, the river bend you linger on, the sunset is also willing to stay, the scenery you planted, the Yi people never get tired of it.
You are on the other side, the stone-paved mound, you say is the art of the mountain. Ancient stone cups, bamboo tubes and small streams of water, you say that it is your freehand, but also natural originality. There are also tiles to build, and there are many old tea women...
You are always rejoicing, always endlessly interested, attracting the little swallows of the eaves to leap forward, causing the roof to smoke to drift by, and the sky is exceptionally blue.
For no reason, when you think of it, you want to laugh, a shallow laugh from the bottom of your heart. With your presence and hope, the days are never empty.
If poetry is far away, you are far away. If spring is perfect, you are perfect. Send a paragraph, you are a paper and ink biography, you are a beautiful yearning.
You are the tail of the wind, and the money is the agreement of the past life. I am the flower, and the petals are the dust of this life.
The wind is the letter, the flower is the promise. Every degree of spring wind, how can the flowers be missed, and every time they bloom gracefully and abundantly.
You say, when the spring breeze rises and the flowers bloom, we will meet, in your little town, in my town. In the wind and in the rain, under the moonlight, by the river with the willow branches fluttering.
Faith must have such a beautiful time, once is good, love you will not change.
See also the Kelsang flower, which blooms at the foot of Mount Mang. The beautiful scenery is in the sky, in front of the eyes, just waiting to see each other.
In this life, it is agreed that the spring light of the earth is proof, and if the wind has a place to come, the flower will have a way back.
About the author: Lu Ye, who loves natural plants and trees, likes music, reading, and occasionally writes, and his poems are published in "Chinese Poetry", etc., and the poetry collection "Acacia Tree" is published. Original contributions.